An unforgivable kind of love (Completed)

An unforgivable kind of love- chapter 2

So Phil had woken up, he figured the time should be around 10am without even glancing at his phone. The bedroom was unbearably bright from the sun, causing Phil to peek from under the covers through weary, half-lidded eyes just to help them adjust.
From the lack of noise, Phil was definite that Dan wasn't there, that thought confirmed when Phil peered over noticing the crumpled sheets and an abandoned cold spot to his left. Dan never really got up that early -so Phil's face crinkled in confusion, possibilities of his boyfriends whereabouts washing over him.
Padding around the dull and meekly decorated excuse of a bedroom, Phil slipped into a pair of grey sweats which were slumped on the floor. Shrugging on a baggy t-shirt, he carded his messy hair to the side carelessly and left the room, sauntering off tiredly downstairs.
And he was met with an overly-familiar smell that made his stomach growl and his nose twitch.
Eggs.
Phil's favourite food.
And without further question he swiftly made his way into the kitchen, debating if Dan was probably in a cheery mood to be cooking, usually he'd be the one slaved over the gruelling heat being ordered to work up some exquisite dishes. Many times he'd never heard of them for example he didn't have the vaguest what Fasolakia Freska was but plainly Dan would stuff a stupid iPhone app enscripted with the menu in his face with an expression like 'Are you too fucking dumb to even know that'.
But Phil kept his smile fonder than his exhausted mood, stepping into the kitchen and instantly inhaling the delicious smell that vibrantly filled his senses.
But Dan was too indulged to acknowledge the lad, the sizzling of the eggs was all too captivating and the quiet hum of Coldplay blaring out of radio made it all that harder to tune into reality.
Phil's lip was between his teeth as he hesitantly stepped closer, flopping down on one of the bar stools. The noise captured Dan's full attention and he was soon all ears, spinning around flustered with the spatula still in his grip and wide eyes. His look wasn't really what Phil expected.
"Jesus, Phil don't fucking creep up on me like that," Dan scolded with an icy look.
And Phil knew instantly now his mood was going to be dampened all day, pretty much like every day he'd lived for the past 6 months. Dan was going to be mad, and Phil was just going to be the target of all the abuse, because who else was there to take it?
Phil's smile faded slowly and he faintly struggled out a sorry, avoiding the pointed look Dan was holding fiercely against him.
He should have been expecting it.
Dan took all the eggs, his plate neatly stacked with bacon and sausages too. And Phil's stomach was growling and churning, craved of the delectable food Dan seemed to be carelessly shovelling down. Phil was starving and he was sure if he didn't eat something now he'd soon writhe to the floor and shrivel away into nothing.
"You know we have an YouTube interview today, don't you Phil?" Dan told him, mid chew and Phil just nodded flatly.
Dan spurted out a shoot of wicked laughter, a laugh that made Phil inwardly shake.
"You better get upstairs and make yourself look presentable then, you look like shit."
The remark caused something to ache and burn in the pitt of Phil's stomach, caused something to jam up his throat and make his head feel lumbering.
But he was used to it. He was used to all these snide remarks and he'd learnt to just accept them, because they surly weren't the worst that Dan offered - there was a darker side which Phil always tried to avoid.
So Phil just swallowed back the hurt like always, even though it felt like a thousand sharp knifes sliding down his throat. He rose to his feet with no further words, dragging himself to the bathroom.
And Dan was right.
Glancing in the mirror Phil was met with an overly-dull character. His face was washed a frosty-pale colour, his jade eyes puffy and tired looking. His forefingers skimmed over his neck, over a fading, purple tinged bruise that lay on the flesh. Pushing down on the wound, Phil let out a hiss; retracting his fingers hastily and stripping off for a shower instead.